#stgrs

stark    commentary ,        /        said    aloud    to    self ,        an    attempt    to    maintain    composure .        through    forced    feats ,        /        tight    lipped    smile ,        obligatory    eye    contact .          ❝      take    it    the    missus    let    you    in ,        ?      ❞          rhetorical ,        /        she    only    other    in    compound ,        aside    from    personal    medical    team .          (      one    she    insists    on    being    there ,      )          ❝      mhm ,        must    have    slipped    her    mind ,        fact    you’re    no    longer    welcome    here ,      ❞          insolent    display ,        /        sniff    of    dismissal ,        loose    roll    of    shoulders .          ❝      pregnancy    does    that    i    guess ,      ❞          surprise ,        !        /        slips    it    into    conversation ,        as    if    two    merely    strangers ,

“... This has gotta be some kinda sick joke, right?” Clint piped up. “I mean—- this is bullshit.”

In spite of the betrayal I felt, Clint’s belief in me brought a smile to my face. Even if it was misplaced.

“You’re too close to the situation,” Ross’s voice cut in. “You and Stark both...” 

There was silence over the channel for a few seconds. I could almost see them glaring through the earpiece. “That leaves me firmly in your camp, Rogers.” My fingers flexed, anticipation edging under the skin as I exhaled... 

It was difficult to imagine taking on a man I had fought side-by-side with, in the worst situations. 

But if that’s what it takes to break free, to break my alliance. “быть по сему.” [so be it.]

The Russian was said to the cold, to the night—- to no one in particular as I perched on top of a building a few blocks out from the Tower.

Then, like all unreliable, American-made technology, the signal chose that moment to cut out. Leaving nothing but feedback in my ear. I pocketed the piece, weighed my options.

After a few minutes, or when the sirens passed enough to the west, I climbed down the fire escape: en route to Roger’s apartment. I wasn’t sure if it was a friendly visit or not, considering I never got his answer to Ross’s directive, but... посмотрим [we’ll see].

So, for the second time tonight, I was climbing fire escapes... this time landing myself in Steve’s living room. Taking the seat in the southeast corner, I waited... seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time lost all meaning under the itch of adrenaline.

Finally, as the doorknob turned, that tension came again. It buzzed beneath my fingertips as they tapped over the inside of my thigh, ready to run. To fight. Whatever it takes.